A Country Girl. Nancy Carson
herself blush as Clarence harkened to Murdoch Osborne and gave greater expression to Rolfe’s admission of love for Pocahontas.
‘You’ve just got rid of your comrades and you’re thinking aloud about her, as you’ve been left to keep watch over that part of the forest,’ Murdoch directed, interrupting Rolfe’s flow. ‘But you ain’t seen Pocahontas yet, remember. All you know about her is what you’ve been told, and that she saved the life of Captain Smith. Try it again.’
Clarence Froggatt cleared his throat. ‘How I wish I could catch sight of her. Such a gentle maid would be much pleasanter acquaintance in these wilds than yon rough comrades. I am already half in love with this forest maid for saving my friend Smith … ’ He glanced at Kate hoping for some unfeigned reaction, watched closely by Harriet. But Kate’s eyes were in her lap.
‘That’s more like it,’ Murdoch said with approval. ‘Now … you see a panther stalking his prey and you follow it. Suddenly, you spot a Red Indian girl reclining under a tree and you realise the panther is about to attack her. You begin to tremble at the responsibility that befalls you … Carry on …’
‘Beneath the shade of yon tree a Red Indian girl reclines. I’ll nearer steal … Is she the panther’s prey? Yes, there he is, crouching low, unseen.’ He pretends he is levelling a gun. ‘Heaven nerve my arm!… Well shot! The brute is down, the maid unhurt … She comes this way.’
‘Aye, that’s passable for now,’ Murdoch claimed with a nod to Froggatt. He turned to Kate. ‘Right-ho, then, Pocahontas. What have you got to say to this pale-faced stranger who just saved your life?’
Pocahontas looked at Rolfe with contrived coyness. ‘So thou art the stranger whom the forest maid must thank. Within yon shady nook where she a moment sat to rest, a panther lies dead. One instant more, without thy aid, and it is she who would have been the dead one. How shall the forest maid thank the stranger?’
‘Nay, no thanks, sweet maid. It is enough to have saved thee. Mention it no more … May I ask thy name?’
‘Matoka is my name. The tribes of this land, which your people call Virginia, know me as Pocahontas …’
‘Well spoken, both,’ Murdoch Osborne remarked with an amiable smile.
They continued their reading. At each attempt the company’s confidence grew, the meaning they put into the words became more earnest, and the whole play more believable. At the end of it, Murdoch Osborne took Kate to one side.
‘I’ll give you a lift home in the gig, Kate. I should hate anything to happen to our leading lady for want of seeing her home safe. It’s a rough part of Brierley Hill you have to walk through, and there’s no lamps to speak of.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Mr Osborne,’ Kate replied. ‘But you needn’t trouble yourself. I’ll come to no harm. I normally walk part of the way with Harriet and Priss Meese.’
‘Listen, it’s no trouble. I’d rather I took you than not.’
She smiled sweetly. ‘Thank you.’
‘Just give us the nod when you’re ready.’
She was about to return to the company of Harriet and Priss, who had moved towards the door to make their exit, when Clarence Froggatt approached her.
‘Kate, would you allow me to walk you home?’
‘Stone me if there isn’t a sudden outbreak of gallantry hereabouts,’ she exclaimed dryly. ‘I’ve just accepted Mr Osborne’s offer to drop me off in his gig. Save my legs, it will.’
‘Oh,’ Clarence said, disappointment manifest in his eyes. ‘That’s very thoughtful of him. I can offer you nothing as grand as a gig. Merely Shanks’s pony. Another time, maybe?’
‘Who knows?’ Kate smiled sweetly. ‘In the meantime, Clarence, my friend Harriet Meese might appreciate your company if you’re going her way. She could do with an escort.’
‘But won’t her sister be with her?’
‘Two for the price of one, eh? Maybe your luck’s in, Clarence …’
That same evening in June, Algie Stokes had returned home from work to the news that Marigold had called, and that the Binghams would be moored up in the basin at the Bottle and Glass. Before even he had his tea, he hurried to their narrowboats, full of excitement, to cast his eyes over her lovely face again and to arrange to see her later.
He was enchanted, and it showed. Marigold, too, was suddenly on top of the world after all the nagging doubts she’d harboured; doubts which she now recognised were stupid and unreasonable. Algie still loved her, and she felt uplifted, relieved, ecstatic. It was obvious he did, else he would not be so happy and so keen to see her. She made an effort to look her best for him when he returned after he’d eaten and, when she smiled, affection oozed from her clear blue eyes.
‘You look nice,’ Algie remarked as she stepped off the gunwale of the narrowboat to be with him.
‘Do I?’ she said, needing his reassurance.
‘You look nice enough to eat.’
‘I want to look nice for you, Algie.’
‘Well, you do,’ he confirmed.
‘It’s lucky the weather’s been so fair, don’t you think?… And I’m glad to see your poorly lip’s mended.’
He grinned waggishly, aware of what she meant. ‘Yes, it’s very serviceable now, I reckon.’
They headed, with an unspoken accord, in the direction of the secluded dell close to Dadford’s Bridge. There, they might have expected to find at least one more courting couple, but again they were alone and sat down on the grass, hidden from the rest of the world in their own private little hollow, surrounded and hidden by gorse bushes and the steep, grassy knoll behind them. Algie took off his jacket, rolled it up and laid it on the ground behind them.
‘Rest your head on my coat, eh?’
She did as she was bid and smiled up at him adoringly. He lay beside her, his head propped up on his arm, looking at her lovely face.
‘I’ve missed you such a lot, Algie,’ she whispered softly. ‘I was thinking about you nearly all the time I was away.’
Touched by her openness, he bent his head and kissed her gently on the lips. ‘I missed you as well, my little flower.’
‘We kept getting loads up to Cheshire and back. It seemed as if I was never going to see you again.’
‘Well, you’re here now.’
‘Have you really missed me?’ she asked earnestly, delaying receipt of another kiss.
‘Yes … I really have.’
‘And you ain’t snuck off to see Harriet?’
‘No, never,’ he protested sincerely. ‘I promised I wouldn’t, and I haven’t. She doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. She doesn’t interest me. I thought you understood that.’
She lifted her face to his and her kiss was an apology for making the suggestion. ‘I just have to be sure, Algie. You must’ve guessed by now that I can be a bit jealous … Besides,’ she added wistfully, ‘I was away so long …’
‘You don’t have to be jealous, Marigold,’ he said with evident concern for her feelings. ‘There’s nothing to be jealous about. I told you I’d wait for you. And I have. I’ll always wait for you. I promise.’
She smiled, her anxiety dispelled. ‘Kiss me again, Algie. Long and gentle this time. A butterfly kiss. I always think of your gentle kisses as “butterfly kisses”.’
He obliged her, lingering, tenderly savouring her sweet lips.
‘I’ve been dying